


Advent: Legacy

by FyrMaiden



Series: Klaine Advent 2014 [11]
Category: Glee
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Parent Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyrMaiden/pseuds/FyrMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine Advent Prompt: Legacy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advent: Legacy

When Blaine’s father dies, it isn’t a shock. He has been ill for a long time, the sickness creeping through him slowly, turning him grey. The last time Blaine saw him, he had been a shadow of himself, still austere and untouchable, but considerably smaller than the man Blaine remembers from his youth. The news that he has passed is almost a relief. When Blaine puts his cell back on the kitchen table and sinks into a chair, it’s with a breath of a sigh that vacillates between laughter and tears, and becomes the latter when his husband touches his shoulder.

“Blaine?” Kurt breathes into the silence. Blaine takes a shaky breath, flicks the tip of his tongue across his lips, and opens his eyes. Kurt’s face is concerned, his brows drawn and his mouth turned down.

“Dad,” he says, his voice wobbling on just the one syllable. He takes a breath, exhales slowly and tries again. “Dad’s gone. Mom would like me - us - back in Ohio for the will, and the funeral.”

“When?” Kurt asks, and Blaine chokes, presses the heels of his hands to his eyes as his emotions finally find a place to settle. Blaine doesn’t approve, in the part of his brain that is still his, but his body doesn’t care. The tears come unbidden, closing his throat and choking him of air. When Kurt crouches and draws him into an embrace, Blaine lets himself be held.

*

When he has calmed down, Blaine retrieves two tumblers and the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue that has been a badly kept secret between them for months. There’s enough left for Blaine’s purpose, though. He pours two generous glasses and holds his up. Kurt says nothing, just bumps his glass against Blaine’s and lets Blaine swallow first.

"To my dad," he says, and Kurt echoes him softly before swallowing his own drink. Blaine thumps the tumbler back down, fills it once more, and throws that back too. Kurt confiscates the bottle. Blaine only blinks, wide expressive eyes blank and lifeless. Kurt’s not above admitting that it scares him a little.

*

Later, lying in bed, Blaine’s voice pierces the darkness. “Did I tell you about the car?” he asks, and Kurt is silent. Blaine continues, regardless of response. “The summer after I came out, he bought an old car that needed repairing. It was a project for us. We’d fix it up and get it running, and I could have it when I turned 16.” Blaine pauses and rolls over to face Kurt, his eyes brighter now than they were, despite the dark. “It didn’t really need much, you know? But we were like the blind leading the blind. And he was dragging me along because I thought - I knew, at the time - that the whole project was about me being gay, like somehow a gay teenager could be fixed in the same way you fix a car. A little elbow grease, a little manual labour, and I’d be okay to let out into the world again.”

He stops, and takes a slow breath. Kurt reaches for his hand, squeezes gently. Blaine’s fingers curl in his. Kurt does know this story, but it feels important that Blaine be allowed to tell it again. He says nothing, and lets Blaine find his words. They’re slow, at first, but then he breaks the wall and, around a breath that sounds almost like a sob, he says, “I don’t think that’s what he was doing. Not consciously. I think I was a thing he didn’t understand. Coop was easy, y’know? He came with all the usual crap that Dad knew what to do with. Coop was exactly what Dad expected. And I wasn’t. I wanted to learn to play piano. I wanted to watch the shows Mom liked, and flick through her magazines when she was finished with them. Dad and I would watch football together, but otherwise, the things I wanted to do? I think - I just. I think he felt they were too girly?” He pauses and presses his mouth into a line.

“I was so scared, y’know? To tell him? I mean - I didn’t think he was going to kick me out. Not intellectually. The thought was there, that maybe this would be the final straw, that being gay would be the one thing he couldn’t deal with. But I don’t think I ever really believed he’d evict me. But even so, I built up a whole bunch of crap in my head that I don’t think I ever dealt with. I tried so hard to be perfect for him, you know? Like, if I was perfect, he’d be able to overlook the one thing I thought he’d dislike the most. I tried so hard, all the time, until I couldn’t work out where the performance stopped and I started, like - like if I could pretend hard enough, I could actually be that person. I could be the son he deserved. I’d just like boys, and that wouldn’t be so bad, really?”

He squeezes Kurt’s hand so hard it almost hurts. Kurt doesn’t stop him, doesn’t try to draw his hand away. Blaine holds him like he’s an anchor, like he’s the only thing keeping him from floating away. The breath he exhales is shaky again, but his voice remains solid.

“When we met, I thought you’d be able to see straight through me. I thought you would see behind the facade, and I doubled down. I wanted you to see me as strong and capable, as someone who would be able to keep you safe, who could be strong for you. I needed you to know I’d be able to be all of those things I saw in my dad, that I’d made myself believe were essential. I had to be perfect. The perfect gentleman. I-”

Kurt smiles in the darkness. “You had a pocket watch, Blaine,” he says, softly. Blaine’s laugh it watery, but it’s a laugh all the same. “I thought they’d beamed you out of a different decade. But you were all of those things. You are all of those things.”

“I also cry when the bride says yes,” he says. “And I like getting home first to surprise you with dinner. All sorts of things that I know my dad didn’t approve of.”

Kurt doesn’t try to tell Blaine that his dad loved him. Blaine knows that. But love and understanding aren’t the same, and Blaine’s perception of his father is important to him. He moves closer and presses a kiss to Blaine’s face. “You’re allowed to be sad, B,” he says. Blaine doesn’t say anything, only rolls over to his other side again.

“Yeah,” he says. The silence looms heavy and oppressive again, and he shifts back into Kurt’s space. Kurt wraps an arm around him, holds him close against his body, and waits until Blaine’s breath evens into sleep before he closes his own eyes.

*

When Kurt wakes up, the bed is more than just empty. The space where Blaine had been is made, the pillow devoid of imprint, and the sheets are cold. Their closet door is ajar, and beyond the bedroom door, Kurt can hear Blaine moving about. Kurt presses his hands to his eyes and tries to shake off his lack of sleep, emerges slowly from the cocoon of their bed into the cool of the apartment.

Blaine smiles at him from the kitchen, lays a plate on the table. “Eat,” he says. “I made pancakes. There’s coffee on as well.” His smile is bright as he puts his own plate down.

“Blaine?”

“Kurt, don’t.” Blaine’s smile flickers, and then returns. “I’m fine. We’re flying tonight. I just - let me have this morning?”

Kurt nods his head and sits at the table, cuts his pancake with the edge of his fork. He can give Blaine this if nothing else. They’ll deal with Ohio together, when they get there. For now, this will do.


End file.
